[ When she curls her fingers around him, Hei's breath hitches and the muscles along his abdomen grow rigid; he was obviously not expecting the sudden attention. He glances up at Korra in the spray, his hair the color and sheen of an oil slick, the steam bringing a slight flush to the rise of his cheekbones. All the color's washed out of things, the blue tiles, the green walls, the yellow light, all diffused into neutral pastels. Yet in the haze, the blue of Korra's eyes -- as though cut from the sky -- stays crystal clear. He hesitates, then hands the block of soap over to her. Every movement carries on as normal. But the more she touches him, the more the atmosphere feels stretched thin, liable to crack at the lightest touch. Even the bulb-glow seems brittle. ]
[ His hand wraps around her soapy one, setting a slippery, languid pace. He presses a kiss to her shoulder, and murmurs, dryly, ]
no subject
[ His hand wraps around her soapy one, setting a slippery, languid pace. He presses a kiss to her shoulder, and murmurs, dryly, ]
I'm sure you can help me with that.